


"Do I know you?"

by BarkingBard



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: 45 year old angst, Alternate Universe - Military, EliOliver - Freeform, M/M, Man Mountain, Military History, Navy, Philosophy, Slow Burn, Submarines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-11-12 19:45:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18017249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarkingBard/pseuds/BarkingBard
Summary: Dr Elio Perlman, a military historian has been given a new research project, ‘The Battle of Turtle Bay’. He is informed he will be working closely with a highly decorated ‘man mountain’ of a Navy S.E.A.L.; Commander Oliver S. This distraction will challenge his ability to complete his task in the allocated 6 weeks, let alone function within the suffocating confines of his own office.





	1. The battle for Turtle Bay.

“Do I even know you?” Elio asked himself as he glared at his stupid face, reflecting at him in the toilet mirror.

His long slender fingers gripped the grotty basin to stop his hands shaking.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

He felt nauseous with shock and embarrassment for his own actions.

Splashing water over his face, he dried it quickly with paper towel to stop the water running to the collar of his shirt. He had to go back into his office and look that man in the face again. He was mortified at the prospect. He was such an idiot.

***

Elio’s life has always been a quiet one. He has lived alone since the divorce and preferred to revel in his books, his music and his own thoughts. His father had always encouraged him to go out and meet people, but this hasn’t worked out all that well for him. He told himself that he was still in love with his ex-wife or at least this is what he would tell himself when he sat alone at home and wondered what he was to do with the rest of his life. He was too embarrassed to admit that ultimately, his world was pretty crap and that a large part of his life was meaningless and completely unsatisfying. He found solace in his research and that for a fact wasn’t going to change by adding anyone else into his world. So, his father could shut up!

As a 45 year old military historian, he mostly enjoyed his own company, in the warm and secluded, slightly dusty office at the end of a long hall. His job entailed very little interaction with the outside world except in email and this was how he preferred it. His phone rarely rang and if it did he mostly chose not to answer it. Let them email him, as he wouldn’t call them back.

His father had been an academic who was continually seeking to interact with his peers and expanding his networks of friends and colleagues. Elio was cut from his mother’s cloth, even though he inherited his father’s slightly rounded body shape. His ‘Maman’ was a quiet and studious woman who let her husband take centre stage and delighted in her husband’s lively conversation and boisterous interactions. Elio was the antithesis of this; he hated the endless stream of dinner guests making his childhood full of polite conversations with complete strangers, who barely registered his presence. He despised how his father insisted on encouraging these people to come and sup with the family. Elio felt himself disappear a little in a crowd, he preferred to sit alone with a good book or play some music.

***

Elio’s present agitated state had begun a few weeks back. He had a new research project looking at the up and coming celebration of the 75th Anniversary of the Battle of Turtle Bay, one of the lesser known battles of the Pacific campaign during World War II. This battle was instrumental in turning the tide on the Imperial Japanese’s advance towards Northern Australia and led to the retaking of much of New Guinea. The battle itself was a fascinating example of the future of naval warfare and demonstrated the effective use of the enhanced technologies of ‘over the horizon’ radar. It brought greater detection and targeting of enemy ships by compensating for the curvature of the globe and made the fight in the ‘horizon shadow’, keeping the Allied ships out of harm’s way. It was embarrassing how the prospect of writing about the subject excited Elio. He could rabbit on and on about the subject.

Elio’s department was headed by a Captain, who would periodically summon Elio into his office. On this occasion he was called in to expand on the scope of the Turtle Bay project. The complications Elio knew were completely under control – he was fluent in the several languages needed to translate the first hand source materials and a thorough understanding of the diplomatic delicacy that he would need to manoeuvre through dealing with past enemies and the Governments of all the countries involved. He would have to liaise with 4 other Navies and their archives; review hundreds of books, reports, official records and survivor’s biographies and letters, to create the manuscript that would ultimately be published to commemorate the Battle. This was going to be big! His fingers danced across his lap with the excitement of starting.

***

A shadow passed across the Captain’s office door, Elio was reminded of the last solar eclipse that he had monitored from his apartment balcony, but this was no astrological phenomenal – it was a gigantic figure of a man. Commander Oliver S forced his hand in Elio’s direction. His head was spinning at the sight of the hulking figure of a man standing before him. A shock of blonde hair which was stereotypically sun bleached, a glowing tan which Elio was certain continued under his almost impossibly crisp uniform. On the Commander’s left breast, Elio caught the glint of the golden eagle clutching an anchor, trident, and a pistol.

“Of course he is a SEAL.” Elio thinks to himself.

In naval circles the SEALs are the show ponies of the forces. Impossibly fit, brutally efficient, lethal and so full of their own greatness that the sun is barely able to shine out of their perfectly toned asses, because of the stick that they have shoved so far up there.

Now Elio was not tiny, a comfortable six feet, but the Commander was dwarfing him and twice as broad. He had to be at least six foot five, his hand was as large as a dinner plate and Elio just realised that he had forgotten to let it go. He blushed at the recognition his awkwardness and decided that is was safer to stare at the floor.

“Apparently the ‘Scouts and Raiders’ who went on to become the Navy SEALs kicked some serious butt during the battle. So, Navy Headquarters has decided that the good Commander here, is going to be running the research portion of the project.” The Captain said in a matter of fact tone.

Elio’s eyes shot up from the floor into the Captain s face… “Whaaaaaaaat!” Elio’s tone is that of a teenager whose father has just let his younger brother drive the family car.

“Out of my hands sorry!” The Captain replies with an apologetic shrug.

Elio glared at the man mountain next to him, who had a smirk on his face. He would have liked to have smacked that mouth across the room but has read enough to know that Oliver could kill him in 50 different ways without raising a sweat. So, he decided to drop it. Sulkily leaving the office without another word he walked back to his own office with his shoulders hunched like he was Atlas carrying the weight of world.

The chiselled jaw said something to the Captain before leaving the office and shadowed Elio down the hallway back to Elio’s office.

“Elio, this is going to be great!” Oliver said at the door.

“At least call me Doctor Perlman… you pleb!” Elio would have liked to have said… but didn’t.

“I am so excited to be working with you on this project Elio. Your book on ‘D’-day was so good, but your ‘Battle for Narvik’ changed the way I look at the Norwegian Campaign and the occupation.” He turned his eyes to the blonde man’s disarmingly blue eyes.

Leaning across Elio’s cluttered desk with ease the Commander snatched the framed faded portrait of Elio’s parents which he would periodically stare at with a longing that would make his voice break.

“Oh my god..” Oliver said excitedly, “You aren’t related to Professor Samuel Perlman?”

“My father.” Elio stammered out.

“I ascribed his monographs in my master thesis, to firm up my discussion of the Greek ideal of perfection, which influenced their philosophic works in pre-Socratic world.”

His big tanned face lit up as he spoke animatedly about Elio’s father’s works. A dart of pain hit Elio as he thought of his gregarious father.

He gestured to the chair on the opposite side of the desk. Oliver lifted a pile of folder, notes and books and deposited them neatly on the floor. He looked ridiculous in the small occasional chair, his knees too close to his face. For Elio it lightened the weight of what he was about to tell this man who he had only known for a few minutes.

“We lost him almost ten years ago.” Elio stated as a matter of fact.

Oliver’s head dropped below his shoulders, and he raised his eyes to Elio’s level. He didn’t say anything other than nod. This was a man who was accustomed to the feeling of loss and grief. He knew there was nothing he could say to comfort Elio, so he let him express his sympathy.

After a moment the tall man unwound himself from very small chair. In one smooth motion, surprising for a man of his size, he turned to lean against the door frame. ‘I will be back at 0800. We can draw up an outline of how we will tackle this beast,” he said with no emotion.

Elio nodded in agreement. ‘See you in the morning.”

He listened as his foot fall trailed away. Scanning the bookshelf next to him, his hand clasped around a small blue volume, flicking expertly to the desired page of the ‘Naval Register’. This is the definitive list of every naval officer, their ranks and seniority, the ships which they command or to which they are appointed. This highly decorated warrior had several commendations and is surprisingly a lot older than he looked. 52 years old, seen numerous tours of duty and didn’t look a day over 40. Elio’s peridot eyes flicked with jealousy as he went back to his work, in preparation for the morning.

The next six weeks may not be as bad as Elio thought. This guy with a double masters in Greek philosophy and military strategy, he is more than capable to assist him achieving this project. Elio rubbed his eyes, he hoped that he wouldn’t learn to hate the sight of the goliath.


	2. Of chairs and haiku.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Practically on top of each Elio and Oliver sit opposite each over working on their project. So close that they can smell each other. Its all a bit much for Elio.

It was at 0800 sharp that Elio heard the Commander rolling something up the hall. Fanning out the pile of notes and some of the resources he had already discovered, he was desperate to make a better impression than he had the previous day. Elio had drawn up how they could divide the research phase of the project. Maximising his own linguistic skills, he took Japanese and Indonesian Governments, Navies, libraries and museums. He already had made connections in the Australian and New Zealand Navies which he could pass on. They could split the US materials and he could handle the New Guinea part. Of course, Elio emphasised that he would be there to assist when he was needed but surely the big brute wouldn’t need to have his hand held too much through this phase.

“Morning!” He burst into the room from well above Elio seated at his desk.

Crisper than yesterday, Oliver stood with a rolling office chair. “I didn’t want to fold myself into that thing again!” he said, gesturing towards the small occasional chair Elio had offered him on the previous day. Amusement danced across Elio’s face that he hoped wasn’t be too obvious. This was not missed by the other man.

Elio’s office was arranged in an unusual manner. The vintage Art Deco desk was enormous and was double sided. It stood like an island in the centre of the room, flanked by bookshelves on three walls and there was no other furniture than two chairs. Its worn top was large enough to roll out full maps and usually held several boxes of archive materials and piles of books, which worked like a wall blocking the view of the office door. Elio had cleared the opposite side so that now there were piles stacked along the one free wall. He was allowing Oliver to stake a claim over about half of the desk. His turf, so his terms. To contradict this Oliver lifted the small chair up and out of the room, commented to no one in particular, “We won’t be needing this!” He sat comfortably in the chair he brought with him, rolling up to face Elio. Oliver was ready to begin. 

Elio slid the outline over that he had drawn up, to divide the labour of their project. Emphasising the likely benefits of this approach and the way they could overcome the key challenges that the task posed, Oliver drew a battered Mont Blanc pen from an inside coat pocket and began to mark up the page. Elio couldn’t help but catch a whiff of the other man’s cologne. It was warm, earthy and spicier than he had expected. His mind drifted to thinking what brand it could be, it smelt expensive. “Typical over paid and over sexed. Typical damn S.E.A.L,” he thought to himself.

Oliver’s melodious voice snapped Elio out of his thoughts. He was commenting about how he had worked with the Australians during Exercise Talisman Sabre between 2013-17. That he had contacts there, who knew the Navy attaché in New Zealand and could contact them for leads. If Elio needed it, he also had contacts in the 7th Fleet in Yokosuka. Elio nodded and smiled as they discussed the project. They appeared to be on the same page.

The conversation became heated when reviewing the scope. Elio’s focus was in the progression of technology and the advancement of Naval capabilities. Oliver was fixated on spotlighting the value that the ‘Scouts and Raiders’ had brought to battle. He argued the key was how the ‘Scouts and Raiders’ had effectively cut off the reinforcements and access to energy sources which hampered the effectiveness of the Japanese Navy. Elio’s face changed colour as his blood pressure began to raise, finally agreeing to leave this decision until they saw the result of their research and allowed the source material to dictate the final focuses of the project.

It was obvious that both men were passionate about the topic and definitely had their own agendas but the intellectual sparring between them excited them equally. Elio could barely sit still as he tried to settle into an email from the Japanese War Museum. He cast his eye over his counterpart who was nose deep in a report from the Australian Government about the losses suffered on both sides in the 72-hour battle. Elio thought that Oliver was ‘kind of cute’ with a book in his hand. As Oliver read he looked curious but not entirely focused, interested yet nonchalant, expressions crossed his face in such a charming way. This revelation shocked Elio and it took him a couple of minutes to recover from the thought. He had no time for these sorts of juvenile feelings. What was he thinking? He was not someone to have his head turned by any pretty face.

***

As the days turned to weeks, the men fell into an easy daily comradery. They both enjoyed the relative quiet of the shared office. As they worked they would periodically bring something of interest to the other man’s attention or comment about the poor authorship of a document or marvel at something special in a photograph.

Elio realised that he was actively trying to impress his team mate. He enjoyed it when something of interest began a conversation that would lead to some deeper discussion of the topic. It began to be his favourite few minutes of the day. Oliver’s languid blue eyes would sparkle like the sea off the coast from Elio’s family villa near B. Elio thought of how much Oliver would love the villa, he had to find a way to mention it to him.

“Oliver, can I bother you?”

“Oh, please do… I am getting nowhere with this!” Oliver exclaimed with a frustrated tone directed at himself.

“Listen to this. I am reading the journal of one of the few Japanese survivors from Mango Cove. He has such an exquisite style. Listen to this Haiku, I think he may have been referring to your boys.”

Elio took a moment to read and pulled a face as he concentrated on translating the passage, making Oliver smile in a way that if Elio had caught it would have made him blush.

“This will be a bit rough, so you will please excuse me.”

He speaks with a tone of authority and pauses at the end of each line for dramatic effect.

_“Black mist from the waves,_

_lethal blades striking us down,_

_no gull escapes fate.”_

 

Oliver exclaimed, “You translated it into a Haiku. That was beautiful, brutal but so incredibly poetic.”

He revelled in Oliver’s recognition of his cleverness. Shrugging innocently, Elio shot Oliver a knowing smile as he went back to his work. After a few seconds he sensed his colleague was still staring at him. He knew desire when he saw it but was this what this gaze meant? He could have sworn he saw a spark in his eye that hadn’t been there before. If it wasn’t flirting what was he doing. He must have been trying to give Elio what the other man thought he wanted. “Oh, shit!” Elio thought.

Oliver was obviously flirting with him to make him behave the way he wanted him to. Elio felt insulted and more than a little embarrassed. Was he this obvious and this desperate?

Men like Oliver are trained to psychologically analyse the people they are around and present them with whatever it took to ensure they achieved their objectives. His mouth went dry at the thought and he felt too awkward and exposed. He needed to get out of there to clear his head. All he could smell was him. All he could see was Oliver taking up too much space in his office. He felt the room was crushing in on him. The only option was to get out of there.

Elio excused himself suddenly, staggering a little. While pushing past the edge of the desk, he clumsily bumped his empty coffee mug off the desk. So quickly a long arm reached out and caught the mug, before any damage could befall it. It was safely resting in Oliver’s gigantic hand.

 “You didn’t have to!” Elio blurted out.

Meeting Elio’s eyes and holding him there, Oliver let just enough time go by for it to register that his answer might not be casual or carefree.

“I know… I just wanted to!”

“He wanted to.” Elio thought to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for Erato_Muse. Her comments set the tone.
> 
> Another big thank you also goes to all of the readers who made encouraging comments and a wish to see this continue.


	3. Submerged thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Elio make two big discoveries and nothing will be the same again.

The days of research and study all ran into each other as the two men happily worked side by side in the close confines of Elio’s office. Their silent times had become less like ‘pregnant pauses’ and more like moments of anticipation of what the other would come up with next. The compiling and synthesizing process was in full swing and each worked on separate sections of the report. They would then exchange parts to review and edit. Oliver’s natural writing style was a little stiff and forced for Elio’s preference and so he encouraged the older man to be more expressive with his language and put some more of his own delight in the subject into the writing. Oliver liked to rib Elio for his misuse of common words and tenses in his work, which resulted in frustrated outbursts from Elio. He would distract from his own shortcomings by emphasizing Oliver’s. He would come out with comments like, “How many languages did you speak again Oliver? Oh yeah, that’s right… just one! Che coglione.”

Catching Oliver’s eye to show he was just playing with him, they would both laugh off Elio’s dramatic overreaction.

As the season turned to increasingly frosty and frequently stormy autumnal weather, they began to take breaks and eat lunch together. Elio would continually complain about how much he missed the summer. Oliver listened attentively as Elio would wax lyrically about his idyllic holiday house on the Italian riviera and its abundance of fruit trees. Oliver believed he could almost taste the scorching sun and salty air. He promised himself that one day he would see it for himself.

They had begun to talk about their home lives, Oliver was amused by Elio’s anger and frustration at his ‘epic bitch’ of an ex-wife. He said he was glad he didn’t have children to complicate the matter further, but Oliver could tell this wasn’t entirely the case. It stung a little for Oliver as he mentioned his own wife and two boys who were now based in Texas. Because of the posting cycle and in an attempt to reduce disruption to the boys’ schooling, they moved closer to her family. He admitted that he did try to get to see them as often as possible, but this really was only a couple of times a year, though he never missed a birthday or Hanukkah. He saw Elio’s face change in a manner that he hadn’t expected as he spoke. He looked saddened by the news. Every emotion played out across his face, he couldn’t or didn’t bother hide anything from anyone. He was a strange man, but Oliver found his freedom incredibly engaging.

Oliver had purposely left out the part about the trial separation and how that separation had become an actual separation. It had been nearly three years, the final divorce would be through any day now. Signed, sealed and managed with almost military precision that sometimes made his head spin. He didn’t want people to know how he had failed, especially Elio. He knew that Elio would understand as he had been through the same thing, but the thought of Elio looking at him with pity in his eyes would be too much. So, he just changed the subject. Elio looks confused and slightly distant as Oliver asked him if he wanted another cup of coffee. He really had to stop looking at these things. It was quite diverting and he had his mission to complete.

***

Their work was progressing at a rate that both men were happy with and they were beginning to address the final stages of writing. Oliver was looking over some of Elio’s note from the Japanese War museum and noticed a comment that struck him as odd.

“Elio, this report from the I-34. What the hell were they doing near Silva Bay?”

“What? No, they weren’t.”

“It’s what it says here! Look at this position report.”

Elio dragged his chair over next to Oliver and looked at the note. His face showed more confusion and he checked it again.

“At that point, they should have been somewhere near Milne Bay. So the wreck of the WWI boat that they report is one of many in those straits. Shit! Could that be…? What do you know about the AE1?”

“Not much, other than its was one of only two Australian E-class submarines during World War I. Lost with all hands off the coast of New Guinea.”

“Imagine if you will, insanely cramped conditions with 34 other men. You would have really suffered with your size. Fighting to do your job in the stink of effluent, diesel, engine fumes and poorly recycled air. It was hell. They were on patrol with HMAS Parramatta in enemy territory. Operating in radio silence, they never arrived at the designated rendezvous point. They have been searching for the remains of this boat for years.” Elio said excitedly.

“But as you said they have been searching…why haven’t they found it?” He asked quizzically.

“They were looking in the opposite direction, it was thought to have gone out to sea from the reports of the ships in the area in 1914. I-34 shouldn’t have been anywhere near Turtle Bay, 30 years later. This is extraordinary if it’s true, the Japanese navigational data usually is pretty accurate in comparison to their contemporaries.” Elio bumped his shoulder into Oliver in a jovial and playful way.

“So this reported position should be reasonably tight?” Oliver says reaching over to grab a map of the Bismarck Sea.

Elio nodded, putting his finger on where the last point was that the HMAS Paramatta had seen the submarine. “It must have had some sort of engine trouble and was trying to beach itself in the shallows of Silva Bay,” Elio commented.

The both reviewed the map further.

“It’s in New Guinean waters but will also need approval from both British as well as Australian authorities to investigate as it’s an official war grave. This could be a 100 year old mystery that we may have just solved!” Elio blurted out.

Oliver smiled the widest smile at Elio, who was talking so fast and so enthusiastically that he was beginning to hyperventilate as his mind folded in on itself and the ramifications of their discovery.

Elio tried to steady himself and unintentionally put his hand on Oliver’s upper thigh. He felt the stiff fabric of his uniform and beneath that his tensioning muscles. His hand began to move along the other man’s leg as if it had a mind of its own. He drifted off in his own mind with the delight of finally making physical contact.

He shuddered back to reality when he felt Oliver placed his much larger hand on top of his. Lifting the hand way from his leg he gently placed it on to Elio’s own leg.

“Just don’t!... We have been good so far.”

They both turned towards the other as the blood drained out of Elio’s face and the shock and shame hit his stomach. He lurched forward out of his seat and dashed out of the office and scuttled at pace down the hall. After the noise of the slamming men’s room door receded the only sound was the mumbling of Elio to himself in the room.

 “Do I even know you?” Elio asked himself as he glared at his stupid face, reflecting at him in the toilet mirror.

His long slender fingers gripped the grotty basin to stop his hands shaking.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

He felt nauseous with shock and embarrassment for his own actions.

Splashing water over his face, he dried it quickly with paper towel to stop the water running to the collar of his shirt. Oliver would notice something like that. He had to go back into his office and look that man in the face again. He was mortified at the prospect. He was such an idiot.

Turning from the mirror he drew breath and galvanised himself to face the ramifications of his actions, no matter how bad. He had come to love the time he spent with Oliver. He wasn’t just a colleague but someone he liked being near. He loved the way he spoke and the way he smelt. He loved how thoughtfully he waited for Elio to get words out and to explain rather than just jumping in and running over him with his own thoughts or ideas. Oliver gave him peace. They both had quiet ways. He liked how shy Oliver really was. Had he just lost his chance to spend more time with him because he was being ‘handsy’? All Elio knew was that he wanted to spend more time with this extraordinary man. Wife and kids shouldn’t have to stop a real friendship, if that’s what he was going to have to have. He just needed more time with him.

The realisation then hit him, he was in love with Oliver. The man mountain… the golden sculpture of athletic perfection that his father used to have cabinets full of slides of. This was not like some teenage summer holiday romance, this was mind-blowingly in love. “Shit!” he exclaimed in a tone of frustration at himself.

Walking like a man heading for the guillotine, each footstep was harder than the last until he was at the door. Oliver turned to face him, his face was unreadable and yet somehow he knew it would be ok. He could talk his way out of this.

“So… sorry about before. I felt a little lightheaded with all the excitement and I am sorry for grabbing at you.”

Oliver opened his mouth and then just as quickly closed it again. He raised himself from his chair and walked towards the door. His face was fixed with determination and totally unreadable to Elio. Reaching behind Elio, he quietly closed the office door. He was now so close that Elio could smell his cologne activated under the man’s body heat. He realised that Oliver was also nervous. Taking Elio’s hand in his, Oliver asked softly, with concern in his voice. “You ok?”

“Me ok?” Elio could almost kick himself as the poorly constructed statement left his mouth.

A smirk crossed Oliver’s face and all the anxiety and stress melted away from between them. Elio saw himself reflected in the bluest of blue eyes, Oliver’s eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” Oliver asked matter of fact.

A voice from somewhere else. “Yes, please!”

With a force that could knock books off shelves and topple piles of papers and maps, their lips crushed together. Hungrily they explored each other’s mouths. Weeks of nervous energy released. Like years of search, two souls finally found the other half and reunited in perfect symmetry.

Time slowed down as the dust in the room stopped mid-air in the light from the window. Some time much later a dishevelled Oliver and a flushed Elio emerged from the kiss.

“Are you better now?” Oliver commented smugly.

It took Elio a few moments to construct a reply. “But what about your wife. I am so sorry. I should be old enough to contain myself,” he stammered.

 “I asked you to kiss me, remember!” Oliver stated matter of fact. “My divorce should be finalised any day now and so I can kiss whomever I want. The fact that I want to only kiss you has nothing to do with her or anyone else. But we really shouldn’t be doing this at work. What are you doing for dinner?”

“I have a date with a Navy S.E.A.L! I think you know him!”

That both smiled at each other, unwilling to release the other’s hand.

***

As Elio rolled over in bed, the heat of the day had begun. The cicadas hummed, mirroring the simmer of the heat in the garden surrounding the Villa. His hand drifted over the ripples of Oliver’s abdomen. The feeling of the wedding ring on his finger was still alien to him but it brought him back into himself. Oliver was sitting up in bed next to him, pillows piled high behind him. The lamp that Elio and his father bought all those years ago in Oxford illuminated the pages of the book he was reading. 

The two old single beds that they were sleeping in had been pushed together to make room for the two men, as was done hundreds of times before over the past decades for other guests. This was the bedroom Elio has known all his life, faded posters from his youth smattered the walls and the smell of lavender soap filled his senses. So comfortable and familiar and now complete with Oliver in it.

“What are you reading?” Elio asked.

“I am catching up on your Father’s back list. Look at these bodies. Impossibly curved… it’s like they are daring you to desire them!” Oliver mused, showed Elio the images on the page he was reading.

“I don’t desire you… I worship you!” Elio reached up to pull Oliver into a passionate kiss. Oliver’s hand slid down along Elio’s belly. Oliver mumbled to himself, “Eli-Belly!”

Ignoring the old nickname his parents called him, Elio pulled out of the kiss.

“I am not going to let Maman or Mafalda monopolize your time, like they have this last week.” Elio spat out jealously.

“What can I say, I’m irresistible!” Oliver said playfully to placate his green-eyed lover. “La muvi star!”

Brushing off Oliver’s boasting, Elio continued. “So, what do you want to do today? We can drive along the coast or go to see San Giacomo. The bell tower is…”

Picking up from Elio’s line, “…to die for! I know… I know. Maybe later. But we can take the bikes!”

Chuckling to himself, Oliver patted his abs. “With two more weeks of Mafalda’s cooking, you are going to have to roll me out of here.”

“Maybe that was our plan all along.” Elio said through sparkling Peridot eyes. “If we make this place so perfect, you will never want to leave.”

Grabbing Elio in his arms, peppering him with little kisses he sighed. “This is heaven!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Huge thank you to the beautiful Antola Simonetti and the delightful Dhru Deb for their assistance with making my Italian work.
> 
> This is an end point which actually brought a tear to my eye. I hope you all enjoy it. Please let me know what you think.


End file.
